


Red Moon

by tatterwitch



Series: Red Moon [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hunter Keith, M/M, Red Riding Hood Elements, Werewolf Shiro, very loosely though - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 17:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: A man.Keith faltered, fingers loosening on the bowstring before he forced himself to steady.The man snarled, baring those wicked-looking teeth again. The swirling grey of his eyes darkened as the black of his irises swept outward.Not a man.Keith pulled back on the bowstring and took aim.The Lycan’s chest heaved. One arm lifted, dark claws cutting through the air weakly. The growl that slipped from between his teeth sounded more agonized than threatening. Cracked lips parted and long black lashes fluttered.“Please.”The word was raspy and barely audible. But it was a word.The bowstring creaked, loosening in Keith’s hand. He’d never heard a Lycan using language before.





	Red Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> All credit for this brilliant AU goes to the marvelous [Dallie](http://duscaenorange.tumblr.com/). You can read her interpretation and the inspiration for this series [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12588684). Thank you so much, D, for letting me jump in on this AU. You're an incredible friend and one hell of an enabler (said with the utmost love ofc).

The storm was moving faster than he’d predicted. 

Thick grey clouds churned overhead. The wind threaded its frigid fingers between the gaps in Keith’s clothing. It made his eyes sting and his face ache. 

The bare black limbs of the trees shivered and cracked. Beneath the thinning blanket of white that coated the trunks and roots, silver glinted hungrily. 

Keith stooped, carefully sweeping away what bits of debris that had fallen into the metal maw. He tossed the broken branch and reset the trap further away from the path. 

The wind tugged at his hood as he straightened and hurried along.

Keith fought the urge to jam his hands into his armpits and stomp back to the village. There were only a dozen more traps to check. 

The snow was deeper off the path. It reached the laces of Keith’s boots easily, soaking the leather cordage and seeping through to his socks. His toes ached fiercely. 

Thin silver wire was pulled taught between trunks. He checked the knots and resettled them lower. 

Spring-loaded traps baited with gristly hunks from the butchery were reset and covered with snow. 

It was far off the path and near the last of the traps that Keith heard it.

The whine was thin and low, barely carrying over the howling of the wind. Metal rattled and the whine broke into a painful, almost human scream.

Keith pulled his bow from its place on his back and reached for an arrow. He crouched as he crept toward the noise. The bowstring grew taught, making the numb tips of his fingers protest. 

The first thing Keith noticed was the blood.

It speckled the snow in wide arcs, like the lycan had tried to drag itself and the trap away. It pooled in a dark circle near the trunk of a tree. The metal links of the trap had been stretched to their limit. They gleamed against the bloodied snow as they clinked softly.

The bowstring creaked as it was pulled taught. Keith rounded the tree quickly. 

Eyes the color of the winter sky pinned on him. Pale lips peeled back from sharp white teeth. A tuft of thick white hair fell over furrowed brows. Threads of it mixed with the inky black that covered the rest of a head. Blood smeared over a body bared to the elements. 

_ A man. _

Keith faltered, fingers loosening on the bowstring before he forced himself to steady.

The man snarled, baring those wicked-looking teeth again. The swirling grey of his eyes darkened as the black of his irises swept outward. 

_ Not a man. _

Keith pulled back on the bowstring and took aim.

The Lycan’s chest heaved. One arm lifted, dark claws cutting through the air weakly. The growl that slipped from between his teeth sounded more agonized than threatening. Cracked lips parted and long black lashes fluttered.

“ _ Please _ .” 

The word was raspy and barely audible. But it was a word. 

The bowstring creaked, loosening in Keith’s hand. He’d never heard a Lycan using language before. 

Something cold settled against Keith’s cheek. Snow, he realized. The storm grew closer. 

He settled his bow on his back again and took a steadying breath.

The snow had melted into a red slush around the Lycan’s body. Hooked silver teeth buried deep into shredded flesh. Blood pumped sluggishly from between frosted ligaments and muscle. The startlingly bright white of bone peeked through the mess.

Keith felt his stomach clench. 

It was clear that the Lycan had fought hard to free itself. The fingers of his unhindered hand were scraped and shredded from prying at the trap. 

Keith crouched, pulling his knife from its sheath. 

Those grey eyes tracked his every motion but the Lycan made no move to attack. 

The hand was beyond saving. Black rot had already set in at the fingertips. Amputation would stave off infection. 

Keith’s fingers slipped over warm, wet metal. The latch mechanism clicked, unhinging with a sickening noise. 

The Lycan’s head slammed back against the trunk of the tree. The muscles in his jaw ticced and his nostrils flared. His skin shivered but remained smooth.

Keith didn’t waste any time.

The leather of his belt whistled as he jerked it free. It bit deep into the pale skin of the Lycan’s arm. It’d stop what little blood was left in his body from draining, Keith hoped, before setting to his grisly task. 

The blade made quick work of severing the last tendons. The bone, however, put up more of a fight. 

The Lycan panted, body curling in on itself even as he kept quiet. 

Only when the bone cracked and Keith packed the wound with snow did the Lycan scream again. The sound rang in Keith’s ears.

The noises echoed as black raced over the Lycan’s skin and his body contorted. 

Keith’s heart stuttered even as he ran. 

The wind pushed him along, carrying the last sounds of the Lycan’s shift with it. 

The snow fell thick and fast, making the path to the village hard to find in the growing darkness. It was easier to run unimpeded by the roots and branches of the trees. 

Keith’s lungs burned as he breached the edge of the forest and slipped on the muddy, frosted road. He didn’t stop until he reached the door of the hunters’ lodge.


End file.
